


Melt like Lemon Drops

by SmudgeDaddy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:22:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26062630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmudgeDaddy/pseuds/SmudgeDaddy
Summary: Sansa Stark was back in Winterfell and happy to forget her troubles. Broody Jon Snow looked like trouble, but he was exactly what she needed to melt like lemon drops, especially in his warm and steady hands. He's a tattoo artist, and she has virgin skin. He's itching to paint her. And kiss her. No, he tells himself, he just wanted to play with colours on her white skin. Like fresh snow that he wanted to bury his hands in.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 25
Kudos: 114





	1. Milk

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I have been reading GoT for so long it's actually ridiculous. So, I finally created an account and thought I might join the community officially!  
> Also open to taking prompts HONEYYYYYYS! So get on it and tell me what you want to be reading.
> 
> Time to get into the swing of things....I'm hoping to post a chapter each Sunday, more if possible! Rating may change.

Sansa stepped through the glass door with the tinkling of a bell with hesitance. She hadn’t stepped foot inside ‘Iris’ since Margaery had taken everything that she had learnt from her grandma to open her own floristry closer to Winterfell. Sansa had stayed behind in Kings Landing after Margaery had left. Margaery had a wedding to plan and a store to open, and she wanted to be close to Robb, who had helped her go through every mood board and who had helped choose fonts for the signage and marketing for the store. Sansa had spent many afternoons on facetime with them, helping with the colour palette and décor for Iris. 

But now, Sansa was home in Winterfell. Relocated for good. And her heart was racing, and her stomach was spinning circles. She hadn’t been home in a long time, except for a sporadic week here or there through the years, and she hated the part of her that was scared, that she hadn’t been there enough for her family.  
Margaery was stunning, as usual, with her hair tumbling down her back in waves and her lips quirked into a slight smirk, that made her look like sin. She smiled wide and pulled Sansa into her arms as soon as she saw her. 

“I’ve missed you so much, my darling!” Her voice was like chimes and Sansa grimaced at the pang of jealousy she felt towards Margaery. Instead she burrowed her face into the crook of her neck and breathed in deeply. “You’re early! Catelyn didn’t mention anything about you coming today!”

Sansa pulled back slightly so that she could look at Margaery’s smiling face. 

“I didn’t tell her, I thought I could use a nice quiet night with you and Robb before I get thrown to the wolves.”

Margaery tipped her head back and laughed, starting to talk about a girl’s night with rose’ and margaritas and getting Mexican from the place down the road next to Hot Pie’s.  
“Robb will be at the office late tonight, you know how those men are.” Even though she rolled her eyes, Sansa could still see the smile glittering in them. “But it does mean that I get you all to myself for a little bit at least.”

“This is beautiful, Marg, you’ve done an incredible job.” 

Both the girls took a moment to look around the store and take it all in, Sansa was seeing it all put together for the first time, after having only seen it in swatches and mood boards at a time. Margaery tried to see it with new eyes, but instead she thought of all the hard work it had taken to get where the store was now, and she had to smile.  
Breathing out a deep sigh, Sansa took her best friend’s hands and smiled. 

“When do you get off work, Ms Entrepreneur?”

Margaery pretended to sigh in exasperation. “I get off at 3, it’s hard work but someone has to do it.” 

Sansa opened her mouth to offer help, but Margaery was quicker, telling her to get a coffee and take a walk down the strip.

“I’m glad you’re here, Sansa. I’ve missed you.” She pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, and Sansa could smell the gardenia and honey on her, sweet and full. “You’re safe now, my darling.” 

Sansa pulled her turtleneck a little higher on her neck, and pulled her sleeves further over her hands as she stepped back out onto the street. It was purely habit that she reached up and ran a hand down her long pony to make sure it was settled in place. 

Taking a deep breath, Sansa turned to the left and made her way towards the coffee shop on the corner. 

She settled into the corner booth with her honey and lemon tea, and had to stop herself from moaning when she took a bite of the rose and pistachio tea cake that she hadn’t been able to say no to. 

When she opened her eyes she saw a slight waif of a woman stood in front of her with earnest eyes and a gentle smile. Her hair was half up and had two braids across her temple.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Sansa took in the tea pot in her hand and smiled, which the woman in front of her returned in double. Shaking her head, Sansa told her she hadn’t at all. “Did you want a top up at all? Cake is always better with extra tea.”

Her grin was toothy and cheeky and it made Sansa feel at home. 

“I’d love some. Thank you so much.” Sansa introduced herself and told the woman in front of her that it was the best tea cake she had ever had. 

“Thank you! I’m Gilly.” The café was quiet with the end of lunch rush hour, and so Sansa was able to talk to Gilly. Gilly was sweet and kind, and hadn’t been in Winterfell Long. “I have a son. Sam – he’s my whole world, and I thought this would be a good place to raise him.” 

There was no mistaking the way Gilly’s eyes glazed over. Her whole heart belonged to her son. When Gilly asked her what she was doing in Winterfell and how long she would be here, Sansa wasn’t sure what to say. She wanted to be close with Gilly, there was no doubt about that. Sansa didn’t have many friends since she had turned and ran back home to Winterfell, and she could just sense that Gilly was genuine. 

“I grew up here, actually, and this is a wonderful place for a family. Trust me.” Sansa grasped Gilly’s hand, and asked if she could see any photos of Sam. When she pulled out her phone to start showing Sansa, Gilly startled at the time. 

“Jon will be coming to pick up coffee for the shop soon.” At Sansa’s blank face, Gilly continued. “He works at the tattoo shop a couple of stores over. He and Sam are good friends.”  
“Your son?” Gilly just laughed, not cruelly, and it was beautiful, and Sansa couldn’t help but smile in response. 

“Oh no, I’m so sorry! My husband. I have two Sam’s. Sam is my husband; little Sam is my son.”

Gilly walked behind the coffee machine, holding out her purse for Sansa to look at while Gilly frothed the milk and ground the beans. 

The little photo in Gilly’s purse made Sansa smile. The boy looking back at her had chubby cheeks stretched with a gigantic smile, he had warm brown eyes and floppy brown hair.  
“Oh Gilly, he’s beautiful.” Sansa had to clear her throat and consciously work on not pressing her hand to her stomach, remembering the little babe she had once carried. Her little lemon. 

“Thank you, he and Sam are the greatest thing I could have ever asked for.” Gilly radiated love, and Sansa knew just by looking at her and listening to hear talk that she would be a wonderful mother. 

Sansa hadn’t even heard the door open until she felt someone standing next to her, when she looked back up from Gilly’s purse she found a man already looking at her.  
He was a man of the north, he looked solid; sturdy and strong. He looked like a man. His eyes were like molten steel and they made her skin tingle where they touched. His hair was pulled back into a man bun, and Sansa wished she could loosen the leather strap holding it back and run her fingers through the curls. 

He was beautiful. Not in the way that Sansa of old had craved, not golden and knightly. He looked like home, like a man who would stoke an open fire and wrap her in a blanket, with shoulders that could carry her to bed when she wanted his skin tow arm her instead. 

“Gilly.” His voice was rough-spun and made Sansa tremble, she wanted to hear him speak her name onto her skin and raise goose flesh down her legs as he whispered into her thighs. It shocked her, the visceral reaction that he could cause in her. She hadn’t felt like a woman in a long time, and the fact that she could feel something inside of her coil and tighten just by looking at him scared her. 

He was still looking at her, but his eyes weren’t assessing, they were just cold. He turned to Gilly entirely, blocking Sansa off from his direct line of sight. 

That was fine with Sansa, it meant that she could inspect his forearms where his black Henley had been pushed to the elbows. He had a large tree with a face carved onto it on one arm, with runes running down the base of the tree. On the other arm she saw an intricate sword, and there was almost something intimate about the way her eyes trailed the wiry hairs on his arms. She could make out markings on his knuckles as he reached a hand out to take the tray of coffee from Gilly, but couldn’t make out what they said. 

“Jon! Give me a few moments, I have Tormund’s coffee to make too. I got busy talking to Sansa.” At that, Gilly turned to offer a broad smile to Sansa. “She grew up here, she’s just moved back. Sansa, this is Jon.” 

Jon could barely offer her a stiff nod before he had turned back around to Gilly. 

When he watched Gilly pump vanilla syrup into a take away cup he scoffed, and Sansa watched his lips twitch upwards just a touch. 

“Tormund can’t be responsible for his coffee order anymore.” Gilly laughed loudly and openly, and Sansa shifted her weight from one foot to another wondering how she could give Gilly her purse back while her hands were busy and polite walk away. But Gilly turned towards her with bright eyes, eager to bring Sansa into the conversation.

“Tormund is a giant of a man, crass and immature and loud. The type of man you’d expect to take himself seriously and order a long black.” Jon let out a ‘hmmph’ at that and Gilly was quick to turn back to him. “Oh, how is that long black?” 

Jon rolled his eyes, but as he shook his head Sansa could tell that he adored the woman in front of them. 

“It was lovely to meet you, Gilly.” As Jon took the last take-away cup from Gilly, Sansa handed her back her wallet. “You too, Jon. I have to get going, I promised a friend I’d meet her now.” 

Sansa raced back to the booth she had left behind when she followed Gilly to the coffee machine, and slipped her purse back onto her shoulder. 

Her phone showed that she had a missed call from Margaery, and one from an unknown number. 

When she looked back up, she saw that Jon had already put down the takeaway tray and was waiting at the door to help her out. It made Sansa stumble for a second. 

Who was this man, who seemed to instantly dislike her, but who still demonstrated such simple courtesies that were seldom seen. 

“Sansa,” he gave her a short nod and she looked his face over as he purposefully avoided looking her in her eyes. When she hesitated on her way out, he looked up into her face, and when his eyes caught on hers, she felt her breath hitch. He was beautiful, and he made her yearn like she never had before. She wanted to feel the warmth of his hands on her. 

When she found her voice, she found it came out as a squeak, a high pitched whisper of her voice. “Thank you, Jon. I’ll see you again soon, Gilly! Thank you for the tea, it was lovely to meet you.” 

As she turned back towards the door, it was like she could hear her mothers voice, and she felt herself unable to walk away. She pursed her lips and breathed out her nose before she turned back around with a smile to face the question on Jon’s face as he continued holding the door. 

“It was lovely to meet you, too, Jon.”

And with that, she walked away with her head held high. Kill them with kindness. 

Margaery was just locking up the shop and stepping out with her mary janes when Sansa found herself making her way back to Iris. When she turned to look at Sansa she narrowed her eyes and smirked. 

“Look what the cat dragged in.” With that she hooked her arm around Sansa’s offered one, and the two women made their way down to the car park behind Iris. 

\----------------------------

Sansa felt dizzy and giddy and loved as she lay back on Margaery’s couch, with her head on Margaery’s lap. Margaery smoothed out her hair, and Sansa could smell the rose and margaritas as Margaery gently breathed in and out. 

“I’m sorry that I hadn’t done more for you, darling.” Sansa looked up at Margaery and could see her eyes were closed and her chin was wobbling.

“Don’t you dare. I love you, and you did and continue to do so much for me.” Sansa pulled at the hand running through her hair and brought it to her lips, gently kissing it and snuggling against it. “There’s nothing to forgive, but even if there was, I’d have forgiven you long, long ago.”

Margaery relaxed back into the couch even as tears of relief spilled onto her cheeks. Margaery cried silently, with grace and kindness coursing through her veins. 

“I’ll look after you.” 

When Robb came home late that night, loosening his tie and shrugging out of his suit jacket, he found the kitchen table overrun with leftovers and bottles of rose, with the wizard of oz playing in the background. 

On the couch were his two favourite girls, curled up with each other. Robb pressed a kiss to each of their foreheads and whispered how much he had missed her into the side of Sansa’s head. 

His little sister was home in one piece, and he thanked the old gods that his girls had so much love for one another. So much love that anyone could feel whole just being surrounded by it.


	2. Cream

Sansa remembers the girls that she and Margaery used to be. They were glitter and danger and temptation dressed in satin and pearls, and they played it dangerous. They were champagne drunk and picture perfect, and they tasted of strawberries so sweet you thought it was sugar. 

Sansa had always felt like she couldn’t see straight if she wasn’t dizzy and beautiful and broken. 

And when she had been chosen, sought after and treasured like something to be coveted, Sansa had felt whole. 

Joffrey was accomplished, and he was golden. He was dazzling and blinding and so handsome that it made Sansa feel like she was heaven sent in his hands. 

If she drank too much, she was a lush. If she didn’t drink enough, she was a bore. If she showed too much skin, she was a whore. If she didn’t show enough she was frigid. If she ate too much, she was fat. If she didn’t eat enough, she had the body of a little boy. 

Sansa learnt how to walk the line of too much and not enough. But even then, she didn’t know what made her herself.   
She was Joffrey’s girl. 

She hated who she was when she was with him. She was simpering and catty and unkind. She didn’t see unless she was looking down her nose at you, and she had no patience for girls and daydreams. 

She was a living daydream. Her boyfriend was golden. 

What did it matter if he was cruel and enjoyed holding her thighs too tight when they kissed. He always joked that it was like prying apart ice, with his hand between her thighs.

But that wasn’t who she was now, she reminded herself. She wasn’t going to crawl back into the clutches of just another boy who made her feel small. 

She was better now.

Maybe if she repeated it again, she’d believe it. 

But she was waking up to the smell of fresh coffee, and she was waking up with a rosé headache and a furry mouth, and she was waking up without Joffrey’s hands still on her. 

“Morning, Dovey.” Sansa could only groan at the tinkle of Margaery’s voice. How was it fair that she could drink a whole bottle more than Sansa could stomach, and still wakeup looking like the love child of Aphrodite and sunshine. 

“I do not feel angelic right now.” Sansa could feel her mouth set into a pout, a sleepy, watery pout that made her face feel heavy. 

“Oh, heavens, darling. I have coffee, nectar of the gods.” With a wink Margaery was a vision with a cup of coffee. “Extra sugar, Sugar.”

She set it down on the coffee table in front of Sansa and walked away with a sashay. 

“I love you. I love you more than anyone has ever loved anyone. I love you more than flat diet coke at 3am in the morning. I would take a bullet for you.” Margaery just laughed and shook her head, making her hair wave down her back like a certifiable Disney princess. 

Robb walked out of the bedroom and picked Sansa’s feet up and put them back on his lap as he sat down. 

“Are you hitting on my wife, Stark? She’s never going to cheat on me.” Robb’s words made Margaery roll her pretty green eyes and walk over to tug his ear. 

“Don’t sound so sure, Robb. It’s not cheating if she had me first.” Sansa had to laugh and blow kisses at Marge while Robb looked between them with puppy eyes.

“And for that, missy, you don’t get a goodbye kiss.” Robb went to pick up his briefcase and chucked on his jacket, taking a bite of peanut butter toast as he went. 

“Bah-ah-ah!” Margaery pulled out one perfectly manicured hand with nails painted Ballet slipper pink and pulled him back by his tie. Sansa looked away when Robb took the toast away from his mouth with a devilish grin, and kissed Margaery deeply. It was like they were blind to anything but each other, and Sansa wondered whether they could count the stars in each other’s eyes. 

When Sansa had been young and had thought her purpose was to be loved by a man and desired by all, she had thought that when she finally looked into her lovers eyes she would see oceans. 

An ocean with whole worlds simmering underneath the depth. 

If she looked into their eyes she would be hypnotised, she would feel like she had been pushed underwater and finally her world was quiet. 

When she looked into Ramsey’s she felt like she was being held ice cold water. And instead of finding her anchor, she breathed in ice water that left her feeling like her heart had stopped and her ice had turned to the ice that Joffrey had always teased was running through her veins. Ramsey had laughed and told her that her blood was hot. That her pussy was hot. 

When Joffrey had wanted something, he had others serve it to him. Merryn stripping her bare, and throwing her down onto her knees before Joffrey. 

But when Ramsey wanted something, he wasn’t afraid to take it. 

“Sansa darling, come back to me.” Sansa had to blink a few times before she could see Margaery in front of her, holding her hands and brushing Sansa’s hair out of her face. “Breathe, Dovey. You’re safe. You’re home.” 

Sansa felt an earthquake deep in her bones, one that shook and shivered and made her insides feel like they were falling out of place. 

“I’m okay. I promise, I’ll be okay.” 

Margaery pressed a kiss to her forehead and disappeared to go get dressed to head off to work. 

“Marge, can you help me look for a house later?” 

Sansa was still lying on the couch with one hand over her face, peeking between her fingers in the direction of Marge’s room. Predictably, her head popped around the corner of her door, one eyebrow raised. 

She was dressed in a green slip trimmed in lace, and Sansa could see the nipple piercing she had gone with her to get under the thin fabric. 

“Darling, is that what you want? Are you ready for that?”

Sansa loved her for everything that she was. 

“I need this Marge, I can’t hide at my parents house, I can’t hide here with you. I need my space. I need to learn who I am all over again.” Sansa reached out and took her hand. “You got away Marge, you knew that we couldn’t do it anymore. Now look at you, married, running a business. You learnt to stand on your own two feet.”

Marge shook her head and let out a disbelieving sigh. “I didn’t do it alone, Dovey. And you don’t have to either. One step at a time, we can look at houses together, and if it’s the right house we can discuss it more.”

Marge held out her hand to Sansa to shake. 

“Deal?”

Sansa shook her hand with a grin. 

“Deal.” 

“Now go get showered and come with me to the shops. I haven’t officially opened, right? So I need you to run a few deliveries for me. I’ll pay you in gin and ice cream.” Margaery threw a towel that hit Sansa in the face, and Sansa fell back against the couch and pretended to be wounded. “Go pick out whatever you need from my closet. I’m fairly certain you dropped a taco on your sweater yesterday.”

Margaery, who was raised to be the hostess with the mostest had done up bouquets for all the shops on the quiet strip of town that her shop was on. Margaery said it was for free marketing, but Sansa knew for a fact that she wanted to be liked and wanted to feel like she belonged to a community here.

The first place Sansa went was to the café that Gilly had been working at the other day. She was toting a large bouquet of baby’s breath and striped, orange gerberas and orange roses all in a tall glass vase. 

Gilly was standing with her hands out to help as soon as Sansa pushed open the door to the café. 

“These are the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.” Sansa had to snicker a little at Gilly’s wide eyes and toothy grin. She was so beautiful and there was not even a sniff of pretention around her. She made Sansa remember what it was like to be young and happy. 

“Compliments from Margaery, from Iris down the road.” Sansa looked around at the other customers there and shared a quiet smile with Gilly before raising her voice. “The florist is opening in a week!”

Gilly’s smile only grew wider. “These are for me?”

Sansa laughed louder at the fact that Gilly seemed to vibrate with joy. It made Sansa feel special to make Gilly feel so special. 

Within a second Gilly was wrapping up two orange seed and poppy muffin and was at the coffee machine getting two coffees, one for Sansa and one for Margeary.   
When done, she pressed them into Sansa’s hands and told her that she would make sure Marge never had to pay for a coffee again. 

“I wouldn’t go making promises like that, Gilly, Marge could easily be your most frequent customer given her relationship to coffee.”

Sansa went to turn around to continue sending off flowers, but realised that if she was going to head to the tattoo shop across the road, and risk seeing the man who made her feel out of place, and who hated her before he’d even spoken to her. 

“I have to drop some flowers off at the tattoo shop, did you want me to take coffee to the guys? Try and butter them up a tiny bit?” Gilly laughed lightly at the grimace on Sansa’s face. 

“Jon wasn’t particularly welcoming the other day, was he?” Sansa had to shake her head at the understatement of the century. “Jon has always been broody and quiet. And I don’t think he was prepared to find a girl like you here in my little old café.”

“A girl like me?” Sansa felt more confused than she had before. 

“You’re a beauty, Sansa. Not just kind of beautiful, you’re the type of beautiful that is rare. We don’t get to see someone like you much, and when we do, we either forget to breathe and are in awe, or we hate you a little bit for being so beyond us. It’s like looking at a strawberry tart and wanting nothing but that strawberry tart but being too scared to reach out for it.”

Sansa couldn’t stop her brow from furrowing and her mouth from falling down. 

“I don’t want to be a strawberry tart.” She felt ridiculous even saying it, but she knew that she had worked too hard to stop herself from being the airhead who thought she was destined for better things than anyone around to let herself become that girl again. 

“And Jon Snow doesn’t want to be a hungry man, but here we are.” Gilly turned back to take some coffee orders, serving with a smile. When she looked back at Sansa, she had a knowing look in her eyes. “Jon loves winter roses. Please pass on my thanks to Margaery!”

It took very minimal begging and pleading from Sansa to get Marge to make a wreath using winter roses for the tattoo shop. 

“They do need something a little less…feminine, I’ll give you that.”

It took more begging and pleading from Sansa, when Marge stopped halfway through creating the wreath when she found out Sansa was doing this because a boy didn’t like her. 

“You are so much more than the opinion of one sullen man. I will take it if you want, you won’t need to see him at all!” 

Sansa rolled her eyes at Marge, who was going to all the fuss to show everyone in town that she wanted to be one of them, that she wanted to be liked by one of them. 

“I can do it, Marge. I just want to make a good impression.”

Marge quirked one brow but turned back to silently resume working. 

When Sansa walked into Watchers on the Wall INK she didn’t know what she was expecting. But the whole room was beautiful. 

The walls were brick painted white, and the floor looked to be the original hardwood floor the dated building had boasted once upon a time. The walls were created into artful gallery walls with varying designs for tattoos, some blown up into art prints that dominated larger sections of the wall. 

“I could smell a virgin a mile away!” The ginger man closest to Sansa was on a swivel chair by his tattoo station with big wild eyes and a bushy beard. “What’ll it be, Red?”

Sansa cleared her throat and smoothed down her dress after putting the coffee tray on the reception bench in front of her. 

“Excuse me?” The broad-shouldered man towered over her when he stood up from his seat. He looked her over from head to toe, and gave her a grin. 

“Not here for a tattoo then, are you Red?”

“Um not today, no. I come bearing gifts from Margaery, she’s opening the florist a couple of stores up.” Sansa held up the wreath of winter roses. “I’m-“

“Sansa?” 

There was Jon, wearing thick framed glasses and his hair in a topknot, with his shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows. 

“Jon! Lovely to see you again, I bought coffee from Gilly’s for you. Long black, right?” 

“Um yeah, thanks, Sansa.” Jon reached out and took the coffee that Sansa was holding out to him. “What are you doing here?”

“So, you know little Red here, Jon?” The big man asked with a knowing grin. 

“Sansa, this is Tormund. He’s as mental as he seems.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Tormund.” Sansa was talking to Tormund, but her eyes were looking over the way that Jon could smile, and his lips could still turn down. When he crossed his arms over his chest Sansa couldn’t help but think of the muscles in his forearm and the way it would feel to have him hold her up against a wall and press himself up against her. 

“I always knew the crow liked red heads. Explains why he puts up with me.” Tormund threw one muscular arm over Jon’s shoulders, and Sansa was surprised when he didn’t buckle under the weight.

“I put up with you for business, mate.”

Sansa cleared her throat delicately, unsure whether the boys were just ribbing each other, or whether she had walked into a more unstable argument. 

“Margaery sent me on a mission to spread flowers and joy along the strip. She arranged some flowers for you, Gilly mentioned that you liked winter roses.” Sansa held out the flowers for Jon to take and flashed a small smile in his direction that left him looking a little dazed. Tormund gave her a nod and turned back to his station.

“Oh, thank you. Let Margaery know that if she ever needs any artwork for the shop that we’ll be happy to help.” 

“This space is beautiful, Jon.”

She watched Jon look around the space and then meet her eyes. “Not what you were expecting from a bunch of inked up delinquents then?” 

Sansa knew the shock was showing on her face. When her eyes widened, Jon’s face turned into a worried expression, and she could feel his eyes watching her closely. 

“No, Jon, that’s not at all what I meant. I’m so sorry!” Sansa held her hands up in surrender and took one step back. 

“I know, I shouldn’t have said that, at all.”

Just as Sansa opened her mouth to speak, she was stopped by the chiming of a phone. 

“I have to go. I’m late to meet Arya, and I think she might actually hand my ass to me this time.” He shook his head and let out a gruff snicker of laughter that spoke volumes of his endearment of Arya. 

“Arya? Arya Stark?” Sansa smoothed down her hair, and put a smile on her face; a nervous habit. 

“Yeah, the one and only spitfire. You know her?” Jon wasn’t even looking at her, his attention was focused solely on his phone, as if she was an afterthought. 

“You could say that, I’m her sister, actually.”

Now she had his full attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Sunday upload. Let's make it a habit shall we? I'm normally very much a prose type of writer, so writing like this is something new for me, and I'm hoping it'll help me get comfortable with writing.   
> As usual, I'm open for any prompts you might want to see.   
> Happy reading!


	3. Curdled

“How the fuck did Jon Freaking Snow know that you were back in town before I did?”

“And good morning to you too, Sissy. It has been so long since I last saw you, so much has happened! How are you?” Arya threw open the door of Robb and Margaery’s home with as much force as she could manage, and her voice was rang out through the kitchen where Sansa was curled on the breakfast bench, scrolling through available houses in the surrounding areas. Sansa’s sarcasm made Arya roll her eyes so violently that Sansa was shocked when her eyes stayed in her head. Even though Arya completely ignored Sansa’s words, she still came over and wrapped her up in a hug, kissing the top of her head as she sat down opposite her with a pop tart and a banana she had swiped from Robb’s kitchen counter. 

“How come you’re hiding away here and in tattoo shops of all places? The old Sansa wouldn’t be caught dead in such a disreputable institute.” Arya was chuckling and nearly missed the way that Sansa’s cheeks flamed red. “No. No! Jon Snow? Really?”

Sansa’s eyes widened and she refused to meet Arya’s own. “Since when did you decide to pay attention? There’s nothing to tell, Jon hates me, he’s barely said 2 words to me.”

Arya snorted, and Sansa had to purse her lips to stop from giggling at just how much Arya still felt like the young girl that Sansa used to tease and pick at constantly. “He didn’t shut up about you. Had an awful lot of questions considering he apparently hates you.”

That made Sansa frown, and she reached up to adjust the messy bun at the top of her head, and then put her hands around her coffee mug to stop herself from fidgeting any further. 

“Jon Snow looks safe.” Arya had to lean in to hear the words that Sansa mumbled. 

“What?” Sansa cleared her throat and tried again.

“He looks like the North. He looks like home, you know? I saw him and I felt at ease, it’s like everything inside of me just relaxed. And I forgot what it felt like to be near a man and feel comfortable. He reminds me of dad, and I thought maybe they could be more alike than just looks.”

Arya’s face softened and she gave a small smile in Sansa’s direction. 

“I’ve known Jon for a few years, and he’s a good man, Dovey. He’s kept me out of more trouble than you could even fathom. Think about all the trouble you think I could get into and then triple it.”

“Then he’s a good man to you, but he has shown nothing but disdain and disrespect for me. And I thought, just try a little harder, you can get through to him.” Sansa shook her head slowly and looked down into her coffee mug. “But I don’t want to keep trying for a man who doesn’t think I am worthy of their time or their attention. I’m tired of hating myself for the sake of a man.”

“Then Jon Snow knows nothing. You are worth the god damn world and then some.” Arya seemed to hesitate and weigh up what she wanted to say. “But Dovey, he’s a good man. I know he loves me in his own way, and I know that he could love you, too. However, I would never ask you to put yourself in a position that would undo all the hardwork you’ve put in to empowering yourself.”

Arya reached out and uncurled one of Sansa’s hands from around the mug, taking it in her own and looking Sansa straight in the eyes. 

“I am so fucking proud of you.”

Sansa could only get Arya out of the house with the promise that she would see her again down at the gym that Arya and Sandor had together. Arya ran self-defence classes, sometimes Sansa wondered whether Arya had been motivated by Sansa’s sense of hopelessness whenever she was at Ramsey’s mercy. She wondered how different things would have been if she hadn’t been scared to stand up for herself. 

She shook her head at herself. She was not to blame. It took and continued to take continued therapy for her to understand that. She could not blame herself for Ramsey’s actions.   
The truth wass that Sansa was still coming to terms with her body. She had to start the relationship from scratch, getting used to the way her body felt, the way it looked, and the clothes she wore. 

Her relationship with Ramsey caused her weight to fluctuate. Too much stress led to loss of appetite and then weight loss. But now, her body was no longer as lean and sharp as it once was, but she liked the softness of her body, even when she had to consciously adjust the way she was looking at her body to remove negative thoughts and feelings. 

Sansa had fallen pregnant not too long before she was able to walk away from Ramsey. She had cradled her stomach and thought this was it. It wasn’t just her life anymore, it was this tiny little thing inside of her too. 

But she had found out too late, and her body was under too much stress to be anything but hostile when it needed to be nurturing. 

Thankfully she had walked away from Ramsey, but her little lemon growing inside of her was lost. 

Her stomach still showed signs of the life it once carried, and she loved and hated that. She hated that she carried around a reminder of everything that she had lost, but some part of her still cuddled the curve of her stomach and told herself that this was what her body was capable of: love. 

Sansa pulled on her tights, hopping and jumping to pull them up. She pressed a hand against her stomach and wished that it was flat, but in the tights, she could still see the hint of a pouch. 

Sansa grabbed the hoodie that Sandor had once lent her. It was from the last time she had been at the gym, she had felt too exposed in her workout clothes, she had hid in the back office, shaking and crying and hating herself for still feeling sick when she felt eyes on her body.

Sandor had found her, bending down and whispering gently to her. 

“Oh, little bird, it’s okay. Come here. It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.”

He had pulled her into his arms and cradled her as he crouched in front of her and pulled his jumped around her. 

“You’re so brave, Little bird.” He ran his hand over her hair to soothe her and she could feel his chest rumble as he spoke. “You’re fighting your demons, you haven’t given up, and that’s so brave.”

After she had finished crying she had turned back to Sandor to hand him his jumper but he had shook his head. 

“Whenever you need to feel safe, I want you to remember this moment.”

Sandor had always felt like her protector, and she loved him for that. He had worked in security at her fathers company after he had walked away from his UFC career, before he then decided to open his own MMA gym. 

Feisty little Arya hadn’t given him a chance to say no to her being his business partner. 

Sansa turned off her car and stepped out, looking over at the gym entrance and worrying at her lip. 

She could do this. She just had to get in there and find Arya or Sandor so that she wouldn’t be alone. 

She stood in the carpark trying to decide whether she was ready to go inside or whether she wanted to get back into her car and drive back to Margaery’s place. 

Sansa jumped a mile in the air when she heard someone clear their throat behind her. She turned around to look at them with her hand at her throat.

Jon was looking at her sheepishly, wearing gym shorts and an obviously well-worn Nights Watch shirt. He put his hands up in front of him as a show of peace. 

“Hey, Sansa, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Sansa closed her eyes for a brief moment, trying to get her heartbeat under control. When she opened them, she wanted to scream at the concern in Jon’s eyes. He had shown no interest in her, he had actively gone out of his way to make her feel unwelcome before, and here he was looking at her all concerned with eyes so much like Arya’s that she couldn’t help but want to trust them. 

Shaking her head, Sansa told him that it was fine. And that, she assumed, was the end of that. She turned back to look at the gym, but Jon stayed stood near her. He cleared his throat again, and Sansa waited for him to speak. 

“I wanted to apologise, Sansa. I’ve been an absolute ass, and I had no right to treat you like that. At all. It’s no excuse but you remind me of someone, and I took that out on you when it’s beyond your control and you’re not them, I know that. I just need to start acting like it.”

She heard him take a deep shuddering breathe, and she turned around to look at him. He wasn’t able to look her in the eyes, instead he was looking at the ground and rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Arya already told me what a dick I’ve been, and I agree, it’s out of line. You didn’t deserve that.”

That made Sansa pause and turn around to scrutinise him with sharp eyes. 

“You’re apologising because Arya pointed out that your manners were severely lacking. Not because you realised, on your own merit, that you had acted atrociously?” Jon was quick to look up in shock and make eye contact this time.

“No, Sansa, I felt awful about my behaviour. It’s not who I was raised to be, and my mum would be shocked. I felt doubly as awful when Arya and Gilly both told me what an idiot I’d been to a truly lovely woman. I am so, so sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Sansa silently appraised him for the moment, watching how Jon stood and looked her in the eyes while she considered his apology. 

“It cannot happen again, Jon. I won’t be made to feel the way you made me feel again. Not by you, or any man.” Jon nodded slowly thinking over Sansa words before grinning up at her. 

“I’m Jon Snow, I’ve heard a lot about you, Sansa Stark.” He held out his hand to shake and Sansa shook her head as she reached out to take his hand in hers. 

“Lovely to meet you.”

“I was just headed to the gym if you wanted a workout buddy?” Sansa rolled her neck out then nodded, at least this way she could walk through the door with someone else by her side. 

“I’ll be mostly stretching and then cardio, think you can handle that, Snow?” Sansa saw the corners of his mouth dip down and concern cross his face before he agreed.   
Jon fell into step beside her before hurrying up a little bit to pull the door open for her. 

“Thank you, Jon.” 

Sandor was sat at the front desk and raised his eyebrows when he saw the two of them enter together.

“Look at that, looks like Snow’s brain finally caught up with his mouth.” Sansa wasn’t sure what Sandor knew and how, but she had just found peace with Jon and wasn’t about to risk it. 

“Steady on, Sandor. Jon has apologised. I’ve forgiven him. Let up, okay?” Sansa gave him a meaningful look and Sandor flashed a small smile to show Sansa that he was just playing. 

“Anything for you, Little bird. The She wolf is by the weights.”  
\--------------

Sansa had to laugh at how red Jon’s face had become, and she took his water bottle to go refill it while he took deep gulping breaths. 

Turned out that Jon wasn’t exactly a cardio bunny, but it made him easier to like seeing him unnerved and a little undone.

“Just a li’lle out of practice.” Jon was still huffing and puffing, trying and failing miserably at putting on an air of nonchalance. 

“I’m sure that’s what it is.” Sansa nodded her head solemnly and put on a serious expression. 

“Come off it,” Jon rolled his eyes and shook his head at her, but she could see the hint of a grin underneath that. 

Sansa held out a hand and helped pull him back to his feet. She gave him a beaming smile when he was stood face to face with her. 

“All good?”

“All good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 Sundays in a row! I feel like the Queen of time management at the moment.   
> Again, prompts are open! Send me whatever you want to be reading and I'll do my best to make it come to life for you. Makes good writing practice for me.   
> More than anything this is practice for me, to get me used to and comfortable writing like this. But! Any feedback is VERY welcome.


	4. Cream

Arya had invited Sansa for coffee, and if Sansa’s brain wasn’t so full of grey eyes and warm skin she would have seen it for the trap that it was. 

Arya had 3 coffees in front of her when Sansa sat down opposite her, one was an ostentatiously ‘basic bitch’ coffee, but when Sansa reached out for it Arya slapped her hand away.

“No! You get a French Early Grey, just the way you like it. I get the crème brulee cold-drip macchiato with extra whipped cream.” Arya’s eyes widened with excitement looking at the giant drink towering over her. Sansa shook her head and went to poke to Arya’s stomach, before Arya slapped her hand away yet again. 

“How do you keep a body like that when you eat the way that you do?” Sansa had to roll her eyes looking at Arya dipping her fingers into the whipped cream and then licking it up. She paused to pull up her shirt and slap her abs before going back to the cream. 

“Looks like my body is doing alright after all.” Sansa shot her a dirty look and her mouth turned down. 

“You suck.” Sansa’s eyes travelled back to the third take-away cup. “Expecting someone?”

Sansa watched Arya raise one bold eyebrow at her before giving a lopsided smirk. Arya opened her mouth to answer before her eyes drifted passed Sansa and locked on to something behind her. 

“You’re late, Jon Snow.” 

Sansa closed her eyes and took a steadying breath before turning just enough to be able to say hi to Jon Snow. He was wearing a dark grey pea coat and Sansa could make out the black wool v neck sweater underneath. 

He looked good, he looked like the kind of man who would hold you on the couch and let you nuzzle into his chest; the kind of man who knew the true magic of hot chocolate and marshmallows on a bad day. 

“Alright, Stark? Sansa?” He gave Sansa a shy almost tentative smile as he took a seat between the two of them. Arya pushed the third drink towards Jon who picked it up in one hand and drank it greedily before letting out a deep moan that made Sansa press her thighs together. “I needed this coffee, you’re a saint.”

Sansa kept her eyes on the coffee in front of her so that Jon and, more importantly, Arya, wouldn’t see the desire plain as day in her eyes.

“Have you seen Jon’s tattoo designs, Dovey?” Jon’s brow furrowed at the use of her nickname, and Sansa’s furrowed at the direction of this conversation. 

“No, I haven’t.” She thought of the tattoo shop and all the art she had seen covering the walls and wondered at which of them might have been Jon’s. Next to her, Sansa watched a blush touch Jon’s cheeks. 

Arya started pushing Jon’s jacket off of him and then pushed up his sleeve, exposing the tree she had originally seen the first time she met him. It was a white and grey trunk with a face carved into it, and she could see the read leaves. It was beautiful, looking like brush strokes on a work of art now that she was looking at it closely. Sansa breathed out a quiet ‘wow’ and without thinking her fingers reached out to brush his skin before she realised what she was doing. 

She looked up at him and found Jon already looking back at her. This close to him she could smell leather and pine with a hint of vanilla that made her stomach rumble with a hunger for him. 

His eyes were hot, and it made her core clench with need. His eyes were looking at her as if he had spread her out before him and knew every intimate detail of her body, and he enjoyed it. 

He reached out and his hand circled around her wrist, bringing her hand to rest against the tree on his arm and letting her wrist go. Jon did not move his eyes from Sansa’s face, watching her reaction. She didn’t understand why until she felt the raised skin beneath her fingers. Her fingers faltered in their exploration of his skin, and when her eyes turned to Jon’s, he was already watching her, waiting for her reaction. 

She gave him a small smile and maintained eye contact as her thumb gently rubbed circles over his scars. 

She was not judging. 

She watched his jaw clench at the touch, and as she went to pull her hand away, his was on top of hers, holding it in place. 

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. 

When his eyes opened, they were looking at her with an almost grateful gentleness. 

Arya deliberately avoided eye contact with both of them as she slurped on her drink which was gone except for the whipped cream at the bottom of the cup. It caused them to release each other and move their hands back to their coffee. 

“Could you do something like that with a lemon tree?” Sansa’s eyes snapped over to Arya who was looking at Jon, ignoring Sansa’s surprise, but reaching over to take her hand instead. 

She had told Arya about her little lemon, and she had cried and cried when she had seen pregnant ladies or when she had watched movies about children, and Arya had been the one to stand by her and hold her tight. 

It was still a healing process from all the grief and everything she had lost at the hands of men. And she loved Arya for knowing that she still ached with a lost love. 

Jon nodded slowly and rubbed his chin. 

“Aye, 'course I could.”

“When could she book it in? I’ll pay the deposit now.” Sansa attempted to argue but Arya told her to hush and shot her a hot glare, telling her to keep quiet. 

“I can get a design drawn up for next weekend if you like?” Sansa gave a shy nod and shot Arya a beaming smile. 

"Thank you, both of you.”

Over the course of the night before and the morning of her tattoo session she had shaved 3 times.

3 times. 

As if Jon cared about the hair on her legs, but the idea of him touching her there, tracing her thigh with a tattoo gun, made her want to be silky smooth. Hopefully so that he was thinking about her afterwards, when his hands were no longer full of the tattoo gun, but instead when his hand was full of himself. 

Stroking and thinking about her. 

She had slipped on a simple sun dress striped in white and blue and slipped on a cardigan to keep the chilly winds off of her skin. 

She parked in the small car park at the back of Iris and took some deep steadying breaths. 

She wasn’t worried about the pain, but she was worried about being held down by a man while pain was inflicted. 

She worried about where it would transport her to in her head. 

She kept reminding herself of Jon’s eyes, of how they made her feel like she was in a warm bubble bath, safe and calm, even as the hot water made her heartbeat slam loudly in her ears. 

A beautiful blonde was sat at the reception desk, with tattoos covering her skin and a septum piercing and Monroe piercing winking in the light. 

“Hey, gorg, you got an appointment?” Sansa had to swallow hard before she could nod. 

“With Jon.” The blonde was a windswept sort of feral that was so beautiful it made you ache. Her hair was a messy from fingers running through it and her winged eyeliner was bold with messy dots overlapping the wing. Green eyes that looked like danger swept over Sansa from head to toe. 

“First time, hun?” She shot Sansa a wink and a bright smile, and Sansa wanted to hate her for how beautiful she was, but she found the fury she tried to muster was lack lustre. Instead she gave her a nervous smile. 

“Am I that obvious?” It made Blondie throw her head back in a laugh that immediately told Sansa that she wasn’t the type to feel self-conscious. 

“Jon’s the type of guy to make it real special, don’t you even worry about it.” Sansa’s mouth drop into a rather unladylike O, and she felt her chest and cheeks flush bright red. “He shouldn’t be too long now. Take a seat and he’ll be right over.”

Sansa dropped her bag to the ground beside the couch and sat on the edge of the distressed brown leather couch at the side of the reception desk. 

She pulled her cardigan sleeves over her hands and patted her ballerina bun at the top of her head. 

Arya had offered to come with her if she wanted someone to be there with her, but she just shook her head and told Arya to get her butt to work. 

She had stopped by to see Gilly and get Jon a coffee which she was currently nursing in her hands. 

She saw Jon before he saw her, and she watched the way Blondie had bumped her hip against Jon and said something that made him smile. He laid his head down on her shoulder and groaned about something, shaking his head and his mouth moving with words that Sansa could not hear. But she heard the laughter that Blondie let out. 

“You know nothing, Jon Snow.” She looked over at Sansa and then seemed to remember she was there as she nudged Jon and his head snapped up to look at her. His eye crinkled in the corners as he smiled over at her. 

Sansa gave him a small smile and pretended to be looking over the magazines and art portfolios on the table in front of her, trying to ignore the unease settling in her gut. 

She felt the couch dip beside her, and she could feel the warmth of him beside her. She shot him a small smile and pressed the coffee into his hands. He cleared his throat once and then twice before passing her a design. 

It was beautiful, and so different to the loud angry strokes that Tormund’s art work promised. 

It was soft and dainty but the tree itself was resilient and so strong. The colours were beautiful and imagining them on her skin made her heart sing.

It felt like she was reclaiming another piece of herself. 

Arched over the top of the tree was some text that made Sansa pause. 

‘Where trouble melts like lemon drops.’

She had no idea how he knew that it was her favourite song, her favourite movie, and he must have noticed her confusion. 

“Arya told me how much you love The Wizard of Oz, and then I saw you listening to this song over and over when we were stressing the other day, you always mouthed this lyric.” 

She watched Jon turn back to his coffee and give her a moment to take in the design. 

“Oh, Jon, it’s perfect.”

He took her back to his station and he brought over the stencil. 

“Where are we putting her, thigh right?” Sansa took a deep steadying breath and put her hand on Jon’s arm to slow him down a little. 

“Jon, I need to tell you something.” Jon immediately stopped his approach and looked at her with eyes that made her insides feel like water as he silently promised to listen and never judge. “I have scars.”

She watched his nostrils flare for a second before he gripped the headrest of the tattoo chair and his knuckles threatened to turn so white he could be mistaken for freshly laid snow. 

He knelt down in front of her and silently looked up at her with his hands slowly reaching out for her dress. 

“May I, Sansa?” She nodded her assent with her eyes screwed shut. “Look at me, sweetling, this is just between us, okay?” 

He didn’t touch her until her eyes were open and looking down at him. Her eyes felt locked onto his, sharing strength with him as his hands landed on the top of her thighs and spread warmth to the lowest pit of her stomach. She nodded again and without thinking she reached her hand out to rest in his curls hanging loose today. 

She felt him push the hem of her dress up as his hands followed the curve of her thighs, slowly rubbing slow small circles onto her skin without breaking eye contact. She could smell him, and feel the warmth of his hands, leaving goose bumps in his wake. 

She knew as soon as he felt her scars because she saw him falter, and his eyes dimmed as his lips curled into a snarl. 

He was angry for her. 

She knew he could feel the raised skin where Ramsey had carved out ‘MINE’ and the triage of cigarette burns on her legs intermingling with the deep and shallow slices that Ramsey had left her with. 

The more she screamed the harder he pressed the razor. 

She learnt how to stop herself from feeling the pain.

Her skin had turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel. 

She was impenetrable. 

Jon gently wiped her thigh down before preparing the stencil to go on, all without mentioning the scars on her legs. The stencil only needed to be readjusted twice, trying to avoid the worst of the scars so it wouldn’t hurt as much, and Jon joked about it being the third time the charm. 

It wasn’t until she was laying down and pulling her skirts to her hip that she felt her nerves turn to electricity with Jon’s hands caressing her bare legs and a fire burning in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?   
> This is just my first practice piece, and I know there are so many areas to improve. Hit me with your requests! I'll get started on another once this has seen the end.


	5. Ice-Cream

She could feel his fingers like lightning on her skin, every hair on her arms was standing to attention, and she could feel the tightening pucker of her nipples standing to attention. His hands were calloused and rough, but he handled her like she was precious, and he didn’t want to risk breaking her.

His fingers tickled down the length of her thigh and she could feel his breath run across her skin, and she wanted to breathe it in.

She was willingly trusting a man to mark her; and she felt her breathing increase rapidly.

He was not Ramsey, he was no Joffrey, he was not another man who wanted to unzip her and wear her skin as their mask, her mouth moving but their words coming out.

He barely spoke enough for himself, let alone to force his words into her mouth too.

His hands didn’t grab at her, or hold her down, they simply breathed over her flesh.

“Sansa, you okay?” Sansa nodded her head, and then, realising that Jon was looking deeply at her waiting for verbal consent, she cleared her throat and told him she was ready.

She heard the thrum of the gun and then she felt it vibrating her bones, shaking her to her very core.

But she didn’t feel the pain.

Her brain had learnt to ignore the pain, and her eyes fluttered closed and she focused on her breathing. Reminding herself that it was Jon, Arya spoke of him with affection and reverence, and she trusted Arya’s judgement more than she trusted her own.

But every time she felt the glide of the needles across her skin, it got harder and harder to remember that it was Jon, not Ramsey.

“J-Jon?” Instantly he was away from her, the needles gone, her thighs suddenly and uncomfortably cold in the absence of his hands, strong and grounding. Strong enough to build her a house, but gentle enough to make her a daisy chain.

“Aye?” His expression was almost attentive, the way he didn’t move without waiting for her eyes to tell him that she had seen him and was comfortable. He didn’t lay a hand on her until she had given her consent.

“I need you to talk to me. Please.”

He kept his eyes on her for another moment and kept his eyes on her as he raised his hands towards her thigh.

“Is this okay?” He watched her eyes take in the size of his hands, and the art on his forearms while she told him, again, that it was. “Well, I could tell you a story?”

Sansa gave a non-committal hum in the back of her throat, and Jon let out a little chuckle.

“You’re right, I can do better than that. I was an angry kid, no dad, nowhere in the world felt like it belonged to me. Aemon took me in as his apprentice, found an angry kid and gave me a pen and told me to draw how I felt. So, I drew. Didn’t have words, didn’t have much, but I could draw. He had a few of us, would buy some raw pork with the skin on and let us practice, give us a space to think and do our homework and practice. If our grades were okay, we got extra time with the pig. Kept us out of trouble, kept us clean.”

Sansa tried not to move under his hands, scared to break the moment, this was the most she had ever heard him say and it was intoxicating, feeling the rumble make it’s way across her thighs and into her core. But he stopped, took a deep breath and traced the scars on her skin with barely-there fingertips. She had traced them more than she could remember, she knew them better than she knew her inner most desires and fears.

She reached out and grabbed his hand that wasn’t holding the tattoo gun and squeezed his fingers, giving him a small smile and encouraging nod.

“He sounds like a great man.” Jon couldn’t look him in her eyes, and she heard him take a shuddering breath.

“Aye, he was.” He swallowed down his regrets and grief for a relationship that had kept him alive. “He told me those other boys were my brothers, and it felt like us against the world. We walked the line between light and dark, watching for darkness.”

Sansa turned her head so that he could watch him print on her skin and work with her snow-white skin as canvas. His head was bowed as if in prayer and seemed to be worshipping at the altar of her body, his hands pressing against her skin, and rubbing away excess ink. He stopped pressing the needle against her and leaned back on his stool, and she told herself that he wasn’t criticizing her thighs, that he wasn’t wishing she was made up of more muscle than soft skin, wasn’t thinking of her as homely. But then his eyes strayed, roving over her bare legs and then back up to the hands clutching at the skirts bundled at her hips with white knuckles.

She watched his brow crease, and his empty hand reach out to trace her knuckles.

“Breathe, Dovey.” Her eyes widened at the way he so casually used her family nickname, and she took in a deep and overwhelming breath. “Aye, that’s the way, good girl.”

It wasn’t voluntary, the way her thighs rubbed together, and her back arched ever so slightly. She hated herself for the reaction that was so telling of how starved for affection and praise she was, so wanton for kindness at a man’s hand.

She saw the way he wet his lips and how his grip on her thigh tightened before he caught himself and smoothed out his grip.

“You’re doing so good, Dovey.” She didn’t think he was doing it on purpose, just that he was trying to make her feel comfortable, but a little whimper left her mouth and she bunched her skirts together a little tighter.

She felt tense, felt like he was churning butter, bringing her closer and closer to a peak, waiting to find her stiff peak like a lemon meringue. She wanted his mouth to close on her and taste her skin.

She squeezed her eyes shut and wished that she was able to walk away, but she was laid out for his service, and she found that the thought didn’t make her uncomfortable. She wanted to hand herself over to him, wanted him to take control.

She focused on her breathing and thought of the weight of her clothes on her body to stop herself from spinning out of control and to keep her mind grounded.

Jon went back to working silently, except for narrating what he was doing, what he was currently working on, the curve of the trunk and then the M in melt.

She steadied her breathing around the sound of his voice, finding the rumble of thunder made her insides coil with something white hot and eager.

When he was finally wiping down her thigh with something startling cold against her hot skin to clear the excess ink, she almost moaned with the relief it offered.

Jon cleared his throat before gesturing over to a floor length mirror and telling her to go take a look.

Sansa felt her whole body shaking under the onslaught of emotions as well as the adrenaline of having endured the pain that her body knew as trauma (but which she couldn’t feel). When faced with the art on her thigh, in memorial of her sweet lemon gone too soon, she felt herself sob before she could suck it back in.

Jon was at her side in an instant, his fingers ghosting around the curve of her elbow without touching her.

“Dovey? Hey, are you okay? Is it okay?” His eyes were thunderous with concern, and she wanted to fall into his broad chest and nest herself there, burrowing deep into the crook of his neck and breathing in the scent of him.

“Jon, it’s _everything_. Thank you. Thank you so much, Jon.”

He ran through the aftercare with her, and wrapped cling film around her thigh, pulling out a can of Solo and telling her to drink. The sugar steadied her nerves and he wouldn’t let her leave until she finished the can of lemonade and had stopped shaking like an earthquake was buried deep under her skin.

“Arya and Gendry wanted us to come over for dinner, if you’re free. We usually just do something easy like nachos or fish and chips. But, I could help you clean it after dinner?”

He was almost shy, and his eyes watching the ground and flickering to her face and back endeared him to her, a beautiful man. She wanted a moment between just them.

“I’ll come, if you get a hot chocolate with me afterwards.”

He watched her for a moment, and she saw something like sadness deep in the storm of his eyes, and she knew if she fell into his eyes it would be a warm monsoonal rain.

She held out a pink finger for him, and he wrapped his around hers, gently and cautiously, as if he didn’t want his hands to crush hers. His fingers were almost clumsy without a pen or a tattoo gun in them.

“With marshmallows.” His voice sounded like the idea of laughter, but his face was straight apart from the attempt at a wink that left her heart a flutter.

“Cheeky.” She gave him an almost blinding grin, and he responded in kind once his heart and brain caught up.

She saw his eyes dart down to her mouth and then back up, before his eyes widened almost comically and his eyes chased the room in an almost dizzying dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A late Sunday moment.   
> So, what do you guys think? Slowly improving? What do you want to see next? For this or another?  
> This was a shorter chapter, but i wanted to give you something! Next one should be longer to compensate....


End file.
